The Story of How I Died
by impalathief67
Summary: "This is the story of our fleeting love, of our stolen moments, and secret smiles." Rose was left behind with the Meta-Crisis to fix him. This time, she may not be able to before he breaks her.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

This is the story of how I died.

This is the story of how I lost the one I loved, one who will never truly die.

This is the story of our fleeting love, of our stolen moments, and secret smiles.

This is the last story I shall ever tell.


	2. Part the First

**Part the First**

"_Does it need saying?"_

The Doctor could still see the look in Rose's eyes as he said those words. He could still see the utter loss in her wonderful summer-brown eyes. That look told him that she thought that his love for her didn't matter to him. And now the Doctor knew that letting her believe that may just be the biggest regret of his considerably-long life.

Had he sought to change her perception? No, he hadn't. He had made a split second decision then to protect her from the knowledge that he would most certainly dump the meta-crisis in the middle of the parallel universe so he could be with her. He'd burned out a sun just to say goodbye to her. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her with him.

Then again, he couldn't leave an angrier, bloodthirsty version of himself unsupervised. His meta-crisis was unreliable and unpredictable, and he needed someone to look after him, someone to tame him and keep him grounded. Rose was the best person for it, he had decided. She had managed to tame him, after all. How could he subject a universe to the possible dangers that came with a slightly-vengeful time lord? Though that universe wasn't his, and therefore not really his responsibility (seeing as he could never return to it again), he just couldn't do that. Even if he had taken Rose with him, he would be endangering not just a universe, but Rose's mother. He wouldn't do that to Rose.

But, alas, ignorance is, if not bliss, better than knowing his real reasons. If she did, she might not think them reason enough.

_She would never do that, she would never endanger her mother_, his mind replied emphatically. _His_ Rose would never do that, but he hadn't seen her for two years. She had changed.

In clearer terms, she had grown up. He had seen that in her movement (she didn't skip around anymore, instead she walked rather gravely with her back straight and a steely confidence), her smiles (or lack of them and without her tongue peeking out), but mostly in her eyes. She had known a new type of pain. A pain caused by being on the other side of a wall that could never be torn down. He knew she had felt it because he had felt the same pain. He recognized the same look in her eyes as the one he often saw in his.

With haunted eyes, the Doctor turned toward Donna Noble, knowing that he was about to lose someone else he cared for.

"_No!"_

Was what she had yelled as her favourite blue box, the TARDIS, dematerialised.

A soft, lingering '_no'_ was her first thought after said blue box disappeared.

And a final whispering _'no' _came from the smallest and darkest corner of her mind as the Doctor-look-alike had reached out for her hand on the glittering sands of Dårlig Ulv-Stranden.

She had ignored this last deny and slowly took his hand. She held it gingerly. It felt so alien, so wrong, so completely different from her Doctor's hand, yet similar too. Logically, she knew that it was the same exact hand. Or perhaps it was the real Doctor's original hand, she wondered.

It was as she was sitting next to the part-human, part-Gallifreyan on a small Torchwood zeppelin, when she thought of her thrice-made denials.

It was in an effort to be more economical and efficient that Torchwood had chosen to purchase a very small zeppelin. In fact, it was the one that the director himself of Torchwood had personal use of. That director happened to be Pete Tyler, her father (or rather, the man whom her mother had married that just happened to look just like her real father) and the zeppelin was the one to pick them up. It had just six seats, not including that of the pilot.

To save him the embarrassment of sitting next to Pete, she had continued to hold on to the duplicate's hand and pulled him into the back two seats. Pete had given her a small nod of thanks, but Jackie, who had her son Tony sitting next to her, had looked over at them with a frown on her face, as if she disapproved of Rose not distancing herself.

The man next to her, the duplicate Doctor, as she had taken to calling him, was a man born of and into war and hatred, blood and revenge. In that way, he was much more similar to her first Doctor than the Doctor who had left her twice.

"That's very me," he had said, and in that moment, she knew that it had not been her pin-stripe suit wearing Doctor talking; it had been the man in the leather armour. _Almost_ as if the man was talking from the grave.

And that thought gave her chills.

Rose had been shivering since Bad Wolf Bay, a side effect of kneeling in the wet sand, but her latest bout of chills seemed more violent and less like the trembling that the cold causes. Feeling her sudden chill, the duplicate Doctor looked over at her, an eyebrow raised in a familiar fashion. It was an expression the Doctor had often worn and seeing it made Rose's eyes start to well up. She blinked a few times before offering him a weak smile. It was all she could manage.

That's what she would do, manage.

The Doctor (duplicate? copy? meta-crisis?) couldn't feel the turn of the Earth beneath his feet. It wasn't the fact that he was currently in an airborne zeppelin, no, when he stood upon Bad Wolf Bay-where everything was so still-it had unnerved him. He couldn't feel the Earth spinning at one thousand miles per hour (or what it actually was on this Earth), nor could he feel it rocketing around the sun. It moon's gravitational pull, which corresponded with the tides, hadn't drawn his attention either. He had never felt so still before. And the aching silence of the rest of his sort-of-species was still there, but there seemed to be… less of a silence, somehow. It wasn't any louder, just less silent.

A very weak, nearly silent hum nudged at the edge of his consciousness. He stuck his hand into his larger-on-the-inside pocket and gently stroked the small piece of TARDIS coral the (other? original? real?) Doctor had given to him. It was one of two things in this world that gave him some semblance of hope. Thinking of the other, his lips twitched into a small, abstruse smile.

Seeing his sort-of-smile, Rose asked in a low voice, "What's got you smiling?"

His smile widened a bit as he replied in a low voice as well. "The piece of TARDIS. It's already a bit telepathic. And do you know what that means, Rose Tyler? It means that it'll grow just like Donna said. Soon enough, we'll be free to roam space and time again-if you want," he added quickly, not wanting to assume.

Unable to wash the pure excitement from her veins, Rose flashed a grin at him. She kept her doubts firmly locked up in the back of her head. It wouldn't do to start questioning him so soon. Then he really might just off and go away in his TARDIS as soon as he could.

Pleased with her reaction, the (something, because he wasn't _the_ Doctor anymore, seeing as there was more than one of them) Doctor slowly inched his hand over to where hers was gripping the armrest between them. When he saw that she wasn't protesting, his hovering hand slowly loosened her hand from the leather and slid his fingers in between hers.

His hand _nearly_ fit perfectly with hers, the Doctor noted bitterly. It would have to do.

As Rose and the Doctor leaned back into their seats, content with the progress they had already made (however small), neither of them noticed the wary looks Jackie was throwing toward them.

(((((((((((((((((((((((BADWOLF))))))))))))))))))))))

The car they had taken to the mansion was a very nice, very spacious sedan of some sort that he knew hadn't existed in his universe. Again, Rose had purposely sat in between him and her little brother, Tony. Jackie's worried, suspicious looks she gave him were beginning to unnerve him even more. These looks came every time she decided to quickly swivel around to check on Tony, but the look on her face as she slid her eyes to him, when she was looking at Rose, told him just how much Rose must have been upset the last time (he? the other one?) had left her, and just how much Jackie did not trust him to not do it again. The thought sickened him. He was finally where Rose was, and could not fathom leaving her again. He wouldn't bear it.

When the car had finally stopped in front of a familiar mansion and they had all gotten out, the Doctor had only made it a couple of steps before stumbling over. Before he could make a proper fall of it though, Rose and, surprisingly, Pete, grabbed him and helped him vertical again.

His expression of bewilderment was met by one of slight, pained bitterness from Rose. "_This_ Earth is on the other side of its tilt right now. Takes a bit of getting used to, trust me."

"I do."

Understanding replaced blankness as she quirked another small smile at him.

Jackie's shrill voice whipped back towards them. "Oi! You two! Come on, then. Don't need you two sick from a bit of rain."

Startled, Rose took a step back and started up the path to the front door, the Doctor trailing after her.

The exterior of the mansion looked the same as the Doctor remembered it, it was the inside that made his world tilt again.

Gone was the polished, clearly upper class décor, leaving behind a much cosier feel that the Doctor could picture Pete's little family in.

Seeing his shock, Pete spoke up as Jacked led Tony into some other part of the house.

"After the Cybermen, and… my first wife's death, I-we" he amended, "decided that the house could do with a change. It's very different from the last time you saw it."

The Doctor nodded slowly, still looking around. He noticed Rose had gone from the room. Why hadn't he noticed? Oh, that's right, human now-can't see everything anymore. "Yes, when I-he last saw it, it was still very, very..." He trailed off.

Pete took a couple of steps in the Doctor's direction. "Doctor, I wanted to let you know that in the case that you're not, for whatever reason, staying at Rose's flat, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want." The Doctor heard the unspoken, _Even if Jackie says no_, that was implied in there.

A twinge of pain knocked against his temples. His head must really not like the idea of being separated from Rose. "Thank you. I don't really know what my plans are yet. I need…" he stopped. The twinge was growing into a real headache now. He hadn't had one of these in a while. Or, rather, he hadn't _remembered _having one in a quite a long time.

"To talk to Rose," Pete finished for him. "Yeah, you two haven't had time to sort everything out yet, I realise." Noticing the Doctor's small grimace of pain, Pete asked, "Are you alright?"

The Doctor nodded, the motion bringing on a whole new level of pain. "It's just a headache. Combination of meta-crisis-ing and the whole parallel world thing. I'm just not used to it yet. It's nothing." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Pete glanced around. "Well, since the girls have scampered off, I'll show you to a room." And with that, he motioned the Doctor to follow him up the stairs.

After two left turns and a right, Pete stopped in front of a plain wooden door.

"Well, here you are then. Rose's room is right there," he pointed to the room just left of the Doctor's, "and there is a bathroom connected to your room."

Again, the Doctor thanked Pete, shook his hand and promptly went into his newly-appointed room.

The room was simple enough, the walls a light beige colour and the bed a nice blue colour that was nearly the colour of the TARDIS. He sat down on a dark blue armchair. Simple, but very high quality indeed.

Seeing as his headache wasn't going away, a nap might just do the trick, he decided. Getting up, perhaps a little too quickly than what was good for his head, the room spun uncomfortably.

Tripping over his own feet, the Doctor fell with a powerful golden colour overtaking his mind.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! Please drop a review, whether or not you liked it, I'd love to read any comments you might have.<p>

I'm looking for a beta reader, so if you would like to help me with this story, please PM me.

~Ica

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><p>Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC, in other words, I do not own.<p> 


	3. Part the Second

Thank you to ParanoidAndroid42 for being my beta! This chapter would have been rubbish without you! Also thank you toharlequincabaret, Dreamcatcher49, Your Favourite Oxymoron, and ParanoidAndroid42 for reviewing! I love the feedback!

_Enjoy._**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Part the Second<strong>

Clutching two rather hot cups of tea, Rose made her way to the guest wing of the house; Jackie insisted that Rose call it hers, but her apartment in the city was more of a home than the mansion. She didn't like to rattle about in such a large house. The tea was more or less a peace offering, thought to what war, Rose wasn't quite sure, or perhaps it was more of an ice breaker. She felt a bit bad for running off so quickly after they had arrived. She had placated herself by telling herself that he'd want some time to himself. That had worked at first, but it had been over two hours since she had abandoned him to find solitude for herself.

If his adjustment was remotely like the one she had gone through, he would need someone after awhile. Then again, she had only had to get used to the parallel world, he had to accustom himself to being human, not having his TARDIS, and the parallel world. It was going to be one hell of a transition.

Rose stood in front of the nondescript door, hesitating. Was it too soon? Not soon enough? She sighed, knowing that standing there would not provide any sort of answer. She knocked on the door she assumed was the Doctor's, but no reply came. Knocking slightly louder, Rose wondered if he was taking a nap or something. She opened the door to check.

It was empty.

Rose stepped out and checked a couple of the other rooms near hers. They were all deserted as well.

Looking back into the room that she had been sure was the Doctor's, she started to panic. He wouldn't leave, would he? Just as she turned to glance down the hallway again, Rose saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She moved around the bed to check.

It was a red shoe.

The Doctor, or rather, his duplicate was lying face down on the thick carpeting and Rose couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

Quickly setting the cups of tea down on a side table, Rose dropped to her knees and turned him onto his back.

"Doctor?" she asked, hoping to wake him up. When he didn't stir, she shook his shoulder, "Doctor?" she said, a little louder than before. Nothing. He wasn't just asleep, he was unconscious. At least he was breathing.

The Doctor was sickly pale, as if he was burning up with a fever. To be sure, Rose pressed a hand to his forehead. His head was hot, very hot. Rose reached for his arm, which was lying at an odd and uncomfortable angle. But as her fingers grasped him, she faltered.

His arm was cool.

Again, Rose pressed her hand to his forehead. She wasn't going mad, it was hot. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. That was cool. It was only his head that was burning up.

Suddenly, an unbidden voice filled her mind, "_You'll burn!_"

Sitting back, Rose leaned against the bed, staring dazedly at the Doctor in front of her. She couldn't believe it, she couldn't reason through it, couldn't understand it. All she knew was that that voice in her head had been undoubtedly her Doctor's. Not the original of the one in front of her, but her Doctor with the big nose, even bigger ears, and a daft face. _Her_ Doctor.

_But when did he say that to me?_ She questioned. _When did I ever burn?_

There had been a high likelihood of burning on the observation deck of Platform One, as the sun was expanding and consuming her home. But even then, she would have been obliterated, not caught on fire. Also, she didn't remember him saying anything of the like then.

Glancing at the Doctor, her questions about that voice ceased. She needed to help him. Not fix him, not yet anyway. She knew she was still too raw for that. No, he had to heal from whatever was hurting him now. Rose had a wriggling feeling that this was somehow Time Lord related, it had to be.

Determinately, Rose focused all her thoughts on what to do next. Somehow, she had to bring down the fever and make him more comfortable. _The floor is hardly comfortable_, she thought. She had to get him on the bed somehow.

_Thank whatever deity is out there that he's skinny as a rail_, Rose thought as she attempted to lift him up by hoisting him up by holding him under his arms. Thankfully, working at Torchwood had made her a bit stronger than she had been before when travelling with the Doctor. She was nearly there when a knock to her right startled her. She nearly dropped him in her fright.

"Rose? You in here?" Jackie peered in around the door. "What're you doing with him?"

"Mum, just help me get him on the bed." The Doctor was starting to get awfully heavy.

"Why? What's wrong with him?" Jackie opened the door wider and stepped closer.

"Tell you in a minute, just help me!"

Jackie rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. No need to snap. "

Together they lifted the unconscious Doctor onto the bed. Rose was getting him more comfortable as Jackie watched her speculatively.

Just as Rose was attempted to remove his left shoe, which was tied with some alien, intricately laced, atrocious to undo knot, when Jackie commented, "You know, this seems to happen every time you bring home a new Doctor. He's all fine for a bit, and then ends up unconscious."

Finally getting the left show untied, Rose pulled it off. "This isn't the same," she said as she simply tugged off his right shoe. "If it was, then I would know what to do. What's the same is how useless I am again." Her eyes welled up. She hadn't felt like this since she had pressed herself up against the wall of Torchwood Alpha, when she had been stuck on the other side of a wall that would never easily come down.

Rose felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. "It'll work out, Rose. It always does." Rose nodded slowly and Jackie backed off and out of the room to give Rose some space.

She removed his jacket, careful to not jostle anything that could be in his larger-on-the-inside pockets, and fluffed up the pillows behind his head. She ran to the adjacent bathroom to fetch a damp washcloth. As she ran the cool washcloth over his forehead, he emitted a small sigh. Startled, Rose froze before repeating the action. He sighed again.

Tentatively, she shook his shoulder. "Doctor? Please wake up," she said. He remained still. She sat down beside him and rested her head on his chest. She heard the steady _thump-thump-thump_ of his lone heart. Tears rolled down her face as she said, "Doctor, please wake up. I can't lose you again." She looked up at his face.

There was a single tear.

* * *

><p>"<em>No! No please! No!"<em>

that's what she had said as he took away her memories. The Doctor had caught her as she had fallen, unconscious after having so much removed from her mind. He had done it to save her. Better to have a long life without him than a short one with, even if she had protested.

He had hugged her to him as he tried, and failed, to stem the tears. They would be arriving at her home in a matter of minutes. Those had been the last minutes he would ever spend with Donna Noble, his Donna Noble, the one who had changed after seeing so much.

When he had seen Donna emerge from her bedroom, it was like the last year hadn't happened again. She had been as she was when he had first met her, before she had seen the terror that was the Racnoss. His stomach had flipped and his mouth had gone dry. It had been as if he had never existed. She had come into the room demanding to know if she had slept through the excitement yet again. Such was the rueful fate of Donna Noble, to only experience the strange and alien with the Doctor, and then to have those precious memories taken away.

The casual "see ya" had been by far the hardest to take, but he had been somewhat thankful that he had at least gotten that. That was what he often regretted, not saying goodbye.

The Doctor was back in the TARDIS, all alone once again. He felt bad for lying to Rose when she had asked, but the lie would make it easier for her and the other him, and that's what mattered. The Meta-Crisis would know what was going to happen to Donna as soon as he had worked out where he had come from. Now all the Doctor could hope for is that Donna would be the only one to suffer from this ordeal. His duplicate shouldn't burn like Donna for several decades. He was part Time Lord.

But… this had never occurred before. It's not like he could know. All he could do was hope.

Looking around the TARDIS, he suddenly felt as alone as he truly was. Last of his species, all his friends gone on with their own lives or lost. He hadn't felt like this since right after the War. But it was better that way. That way his heart wouldn't be broken again.

Glancing down at the console, he once again ignored the message from Ood Sigma. He knew what it was, but he couldn't face it. So he was going to do what he did best.

He ran.

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><p>Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC, in other words, I am not Steven MoffatRussel T. Davies/anyone else who had or has power over the storyline.


	4. Part the Third

_Well. Long time no update. This seems to be a recurring theme for me. So sorry about that. Brief explanation: Once tennis season started, musical did as well—I had a lead part, narrator actually—so that left me with no time. Literally. How I managed not to fail what were the hardest classes I have ever taken is very frightening. Once musical ended, Mock Trial season started and all the stress that comes with that. Fast forward to March, and finally I was free. Besides not failing my finals, it's been pretty empty. So I thought, oh I should start on that fic again. Lone behold, all of my notes had magically disappeared. So, at the cusp of writing again, I was stricken with the fear of not knowing what I had set up in my own story. Fast forward to July, kindly skipping over my self-induced solitary confinement, I found my notes-thank all that is holy-and here I am. Writing again._

_And, as the most amazing beta I have ever come across, ParanoidAndroid42 has beta-ed this for me. All hail!_

_Oh, and emmyds-sorry I lied. This is much sooner than I anticipated. : ]  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Part the Third<strong>

Rose was sitting in an armchair she had pulled closer to the bed, the mid-morning sunlight just missing her eyes. The Doctor, as she had resolved to call him because anything else just got too complicated, was still comatose. And Rose was still left feeling completely useless. She shifted to reach for the tea that was sitting on the bedside table, groaning a bit at the stiffness in her muscles. She had slept in the armchair, which was deceptively comfortable, but definitely not suited for all-night use.

Pete had come in late the night before, urging her to go to bed, that the Doctor didn't look like he was in danger of waking up anytime soon. She had insisted on staying, on the off chance that he did wake up, because who knew what was wrong with him, or how disorientated he would be. In other words, she was afraid that he would run the second he was awake again.

Unable to fight her logic, Pete had left.

The Doctor's fever had cooled down a bit; his face was no longer a sickly pale. If it wasn't for the fact that he wouldn't wake up, he looked like he could just be sleeping. Reaching again to wipe any potential sweat off of his brow, she listened for that small sigh that he had emitted the night before. His breath remained even. Sitting back, Rose really looked into his face for the first time. But not for long, no, that was too… much.

Staring down into her tea, an idea struck her.

"Tea!" That's what he had said last time, something about only needing a super-heated infusion of something or other.

Quickly setting down the tea, Rose fluffed up the pillows beneath the Doctor's head and gently arranged him so he was pretty much upright. Enough so he wouldn't choke and die from a nice spot of tea.

Rose sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. With a steady hand, which she had perfected while handling highly explosive objects for Torchwood, she pressed the rim of the mug to the Doctor's slightly open lips. Instinctually, his mouth opened wider and she slowly tipped the tea into his mouth.

"Drink this, Doctor. C'mon," she murmured soothingly. Rose saw the involuntary muscles contract and loosen as he swallowed. Carefully, she repeated the action, tipping just a bit more into his mouth the second time.

When most of the tea was gone, hopefully connecting the neuron pathways or whatever he had said all those years ago, Rose set the mug down on the side table. She eyed the open space next to the Doctor. Surely he wouldn't begrudge her taking a short nap, seeing as the armchair was extremely uncomfortable. Also, if he was going to wake up soon, she definitely didn't want him to wake up by himself, so she should most definitely stay and kip next to him.

Finally making up her mind, Rose moved around to the other side of the bed, pulled of her jumper, and settled herself under the covers, a safe distance away from him of course. Soon enough, Rose's eyes drifted closed.

It seemed like only moments later when Rose felt something moving beside her. Her eyes snapped open, searching the room in a bout of panic. Something brushed up against her.

The Doctor was moving, as one does when first waking up. Pulling away quickly, Rose moved around the room, back to the armchair. She slightly shook his shoulder. "Doctor?" She waited for a moment. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. A light crease of confusion appeared in between his eyes.

Almost as if he was avoiding looking at her, the Doctor's eyes finally latched onto her. The crease deepened. "Rose?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Hello," she answered. He was much disorientated. Surely he could remember what had happened… what happened to him? She wondered.

"Rose, where am I? I don't recognize this room from the TARDIS. In fact, I can't hear the TARDIS. Do you know where I've left her?" His wonderful brown eyes shone with panic.

Her already much-torn heart broke a little more for him. _He doesn't remember. Not yet, anyway_. This was going to kill him.

"Doctor…" she trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him that his home wasn't really his home anymore. She tried again, "Doctor, what's the last thing you remember?"

He hesitated, thinking, "Well, Donna saying something. Then I turned around and saw you there. I ran to you and then…"

"Then a Dalek shot you."

His eyes widened in panic. "I haven't regenerated, have I?" The crease between his eyes was back as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "No new teeth, that's weird." His hand reached up to his hair. "Same hair… but that means…" He froze, then ever so slowly lowered his hand and stared at it.

Rose watched him with bated breath, biting her lip in worry.

The Doctor's age-old eyes slowly moved from his hand to Rose. As he did so, Rose could see the tears welling up. His eyes unfocused again. She was sure that he was remembering.

"Oh," his voice breaking as he strangled out the syllable. A tear fell.

Tears running down her own face, Rose moved to sit down next to him and take him into her arms.

* * *

><p>The Doctor stared up at the ceiling, no longer able to sleep. Rose had left long ago, looking conflicted. <em>Or is that her normal expression, <em>the Doctor thought bitterly.

Squashing that emotion, the Doctor rolled over onto his side, glaring at the wall. It wasn't Rose's fault that he was a… a copy, duplicate, reproduction, facsimile. And a bad one at that. No TARDIS-except for a tiny scrap of coral, no second heart, no time and space, no… nothing. What was he without all those things? Only a bunch of memories that wrenched his heart whenever he accessed that portion of his mind.

Rolling angrily to his other side, the Doctor tried to empty his mind. Thinking angry and depressing thoughts was going to do no one any good.

A sliver of light streamed through his windows, signaling the beginning of a new day. Ah, of course, the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Wouldn't expect any different in a parallel universe. Was everything backwards and messed up here?

The mug of cold and forgotten tea caught his attention. The Doctor considered it for a moment. Do I continue to abuse myself in this gloomy solitary room, or do I risk seeing another Tyler as I make a cuppa for myself? In true Doctor fashion, he decided on the more "dangerous" course.

* * *

><p>Muttering various expletives at the early hour, Jackie Tyler shuffled into her kitchen over to where the kettle was kept. Eyes half open, she felt about the counter for the sleek metal, only to find empty space. <em>Bloody husband<em>, she thought. _Of all the nights to "misplace" the kettle. Again._

Before she could continue on her quest for the missing kettle, a voice interrupted her internal tirade. "The kettle's over here, just boiled, Mrs. Tyler."

Jumping, Jackie's eyes flew open. Ah. The Doctor. Of course. "No need for you to call me that, Doctor. I'm Jackie. Mrs. Tyler's been dead for fifteen years. Unless you've mistaken me for my husband's dead mother." She narrowed her bright blue eyes towards the half-alien-person-whatever.

Genuine fear leap up into his eyes, and he put his unoccupied hand up in defense. "No, J-Jackie. That wasn't what I was saying at all, I'm sorry, I just-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "No need for that either. It's before six in the mornin' and, well..." She trailed off as he nodded.

Awkward silence filled the kitchen as Jackie made her cup of tea. The Doctor was hovering oddly near the counter, gazing around and trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation.

Sighing, Jackie turned around and leaned against the counter. "So, how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Doctor." Her eyebrow rose and her lips twitched down in an expression that reminded him so much of Rose.

"Really, Jackie. I'm fine. Not the first time I've ever been in a parallel world. I've been here before. Well..."

And there it was. His mouth always did seem to go on longer that he intended. "Doctor. I get it, alright? Well, sorta. New world, literally, that spins on a totally different axis-one that tilts the other way, actually-and suddenly your world and life is spinning outta control." At his dubious expression she went on. "Yeah, right, I can't exactly understand how it feels to be the clone and all, but you're still you, you know. Kinda like the other you took a left while you went right."

"It's a bit more than that, Jackie." His face turned brooding, reminding her so much of his earlier self, the one in leather.

"Of course it is. You wouldn't be you if it was "a bit more than that"." Seeing the slightly surprised look on his face, Jackie began to depart.

As she reached the doorway, she turned and said, "Just don't let that "bit more" ruin the chance that the other you gave you." And she walked away to find that little tyke, Tony.


End file.
